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forestbathing

Ye Forestbather

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

love is a lion

lying strong in the savannah sun

and love is sharing love

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cherry Blossoms

 

 

 

 

at the oasis

the water ripples towards me

cherry blossom toes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com

The Haiku

I learnt, today, an insight from haiku master Chèvrefeuille

that the signs of the artist must not be seen in the haiku, and such 'blemishes' must not be seen on the bonsai either, no individually styled arrangements, but more a seeking of a 'natural' look, and yet containing more than a resemblance to the stylistic predomimently Japanese paintings.

 

 

 

In the following haiku I will try to follow this course, of providing an instant, scene or feeling, in haiku form, without injecting any of my emotion, message or ideas. Thus the meaning you may get or the picture is entirely your own as the reader. To me this places great value on the one consuming the haiku. This reasoning is absent from western thought.

 

invisible

to the naked eye

all that is invisible

 

***

 

pathways among trees

others have passed this way before

where are their haiku?

 

***

 

in the forest landscape

all that has made

the forest landscape

 

***

 

what is in the mind

and what is in the wind

-one causes the other

 

***

 

winter rocks and stones-

echoes of chirping birds

without sound

 

***

Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com

Part II

 

a trumpet playing

in the lonely night

sounds like the ink

I paint your curves with

while the rain just pours

 

Sumi-e

mountains-

composed of dreams and black ink

and alpine breezes

 

***

 

 

I watch you

with your fingertips

pressing the brush,

your elegant strokes

creating mountains

 

When you paint, Yasuko, I see how thoughts come alive, I watch what you have to say, and the beautiful way you say it, with your paintbrush.

 

Your mountain painting reminds me of everything I love about you, and the soft kisses I planted on your ink-stained fingers. 

The Sound of Rain

 

 

the sound of rain-

a backdrop of nostalgia

playing on my emotions

her brazen sensuality, then

warming her toes with my thighs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{the first line to this tanka was provided by Chèvrefeuille at his website linked below}

Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com

A Cup of Wisdom

Sometimes one forgets about the carefully made cups or pots in the Japanese tea ceremony or Ethiopian coffee ceremony.

 

 

 

The experience, however, is not the same without the craftsman or craftswoman who initially forged and painted the small goblet.

 

 

Here where I live I prefer my cups made out of wood, fashioned originally by nature, and filled with teas made from various herbs of the forest.

 

 

 

 

wisdom-filled cup

pine needle and birch bark tea

the taste as nature intended

ah if one day I could serve a geisha

my fragrant brew, what a delight!

 

 

 

Beauty

Many cannot handle beauty. Either by ignoring it, affording it no value or or even being afraid of beauty. Others imagine what is beautiful is a matter of taste, like the suitability of a set of curtains. 

 

Beauty is not really subjective, it just demands a certain level of honesty and sincerity and open heart. And of course an absence of laziness, often at crucial moments.

 

My moment of beauty today was my trip around my forest. Technically I suppose it is not mine, though it feels very much part of me.

 

And the beauty of the forest is consistent, and lasting.

 

 

 

in the forest

I do not walk to cultivate

but to admire freedom

alone among tall trees

I never feel alone

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Land of Two Seas

You can never know when you will fall in love. Ever since Bahrain I have found and enduring fondness for islands, but of course I am faithful to the island kingdom of Bahrain first and foremost.

 

It is so easy to jump on the bandwagon and slander Muslims, Islam and Arabs.

 

How ignorant the western world is, ignorant of true friendship and hospitality, honour, and the desert, always.

 

One day, perhaps, I shall return.

 

 

oh Bahrain Bahrain

I dream of you like a lover

smiles and palm trees

cardamon and coffee poured 

under a different, shared sun

 

 

 

Olpul

 

 

 

More noble than us.

 

More fair, and secure, too.

 

And fitter.

 

The Maasai warrior, from the Mara, the Maasai Mara.

 

Living and walking, hunting and herding in Kenya and Tanzania.

 

A tribe of bravery, honor, prowess, with deep convictions based around moral and ethical codes.

 

Such as Olpul, forest cleansing, even spa, where tribe members spend days, and nights; in the forest, members rather than member because the social aspect is also important.

 

A gathering and exploration in the forest where special soups with different herbs are made, and storytelling sessions are held.

 

The healing is spiritual, physical, psychologic, psychic, and beautiful.

 

even the birds

understand the olpul

the forest gives

 

 

 

 

Kilimanjaro

 

in front of me

kilimanjaro, ah kilinanjaro

always

either one meter or thousands

but always in front of me

The Gate

through the torri gate-

prostitute before princess

though both are same

 

 

 

Prostitution is a noble art and prostitutes are noble. It is not an art I choose to savour, or approve of and in the act of prostitution lies slavery and despair, but prostitutes are like doctors in the respect they have for clients' privacy, and like nurses for the social care they do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Morning

 photo

 

 

 

in the blue of the morning

I swim to the top of mount fuji

and bathe in her flanks

 

 

Amaterasu

Ah Amaterasu, do you watch my every move? Do you hunt by the full moon? Do you check I visit your shrine, that I worship you, with words and wine, that I feed you with my desire, and please you, with my fervour?

 

 

 Is it not enough, that you are my goddess? Not enough, that I want, need your breasts, so much? That I prostrate myself, across the floor for you, live in piety, and spill my seed on you? And what if I wake, from my stupor, and find I need a goddess no more?

 

I felt your presence

in the forest last night

catching my scent

eyes like distant moons

intent as hungry as the dark

 

 

The Tea Ceremony

 

Remember, Yasuko, when you told me about life? When you frothed the bright green tea with a brush, and let it settle, then handed me the small bowl with two hands, bowing.

 

"You must feel the warmth of the cup, inhale the aroma, and taste," you'd said. "If you do not focus on these tbings and get distracted, then by the time you look down for the tea it will be gone."

 

She'd sat back up, facing me: "Life is like that," she'd added. "If you do not live now when will you?"

 

She had giggled too, when I kissed her fingertips after the tea. "I learnt a new word today," she said. "You are a rogue. I learnt the word in the dissinary."

 

Her accent was soft, her voice so quiet the paper walls did not tremble. Her kimono slid easily and I kissed her bare shoulder.

 

in tea

the moment is savoured

never lost

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In The Sauna

If ever European and North American culture are to be compared, it is in the sauna.. The concept of getting communally naked to take a sauna is one that seems to traumatise many from Dallas or Calgary, or Winnipeg and Wisconsin.

 

 

 

In the sauna

there are no more emperors

just those without clothes

ah but empresses there are!

-the beauty of the female form